


challis

by KiriKay



Category: Uta no Prince-sama
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Ficlet Collection, M/M, Slow Burn, im just tryna have a good time :/, slow burn??? slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2020-10-11 09:30:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20543924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiriKay/pseuds/KiriKay
Summary: Ai Mikaze was a part time idol, part time model, full time menace.That's what Ranmaru had labeled him as, at least.or: fashion designer!Ranmaru who's a little bit in love with the idea of corrupting model!Ai's look





	1. part 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have many thanks to give to many people so, in no particular order, I'd like to thank:
> 
> [Al for dealing with me talking about RanAi all the time and then not writing the fics but still being the sweetest about everything and lovely](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirtmemer/pseuds/dirtmemer)
> 
> [Isa for reminding me that I'm supposed to have fun writing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirtmemer/pseuds/dirtmemer)
> 
> [Winnie for yelling about Shoutan with me and helping me get my fashion act together bc I dress like a garbage goblin](https://instagram.com/pineapplelightdraws?igshid=xuitbnxoo01b)
> 
> [And Maru for no particular reason except that she makes me happy :) as I always say: We Stan Forever!!!](https://poetryinthewoods.tumblr.com/)

Ai Mikaze was a part time idol, part time model, full time menace.

That's what Ranmaru had labeled him as, at least.

Ai is serving as host around Reiji's party, considering the fact Reiji and Aine are busy getting fucking smashed in the backyard with the other guests who are also getting smashed. It's beneficial, really; Reiji and Aine keep the worst of the damage on the outside, while Ai plays pretty with the people inside.

Ranmaru debates being a drunk, being decent, and being gone when he catches sight of Ai. He'd been wearing a blue and white ensemble when he'd first greeted Ranmaru, but had since switched for a darker ensemble-- someone must have spilled something on him, because the kid never drank anything stronger than a nice moscato, and he'd been empty handed all night. This would be fine, if Ranmaru didn't recognize the shirt immediately.

Ranmaru isn't a world class designer for nothing; he can spot gorgeous clothes from a mile away, can make unique pieces by plucking apart other designers, and can definitely sketch out the most flattering clothes for a person with just one look. The fact of the matter is that he juggles around three different lines at any given moment: a casual line for the general public, a higher class line for counterculture snobs, and a runway-worthy line purely built for creative beauty as opposed to practicality. He gives each piece of each line equal attention, has each one mapped out in his head down to the stitch because when he loves, he loves to perfection.

And Ai fucking Mikaze is wearing one of Ranmaru's designer shirts with one of his store brand pencil skirts and it is  _ destroying Ranmaru's brain. _ The shirt is a sheer black thing with a stitched in silver body chain around the collar that trails down the very center, until it wraps back around the waist securely. The sleeves are long, with stiff cuffs and shiny buttons that fall over the bottom of his palms and lead to the menagerie of sparkling accent rings across Ai's long fingers. The skirt is a grungey thing, distressed dark denim with rips in a few places around the thighs; some of the rips were covered underneath with thin red plaid, while other showed off unmarred white skin.

The crash between cultures makes Ranmaru choke on his beer; the skirt had been a bastardization of professional wear, and the shirt was a subtle attempt to bring party culture into formal wear, and they shouldn't go together but Ai looks like a masterpiece with his hip cocked to the side like this. Ai Mikaze, angelic love of the public who wore more white than anyone thought it was possible to pull off, who somehow made candy colored hair a year round trend, who was described as nothing short of ethereal on the runway, was wearing Ranmaru's “fuck you” to society with unnerving ease.

Ranmaru escapes to the back patio and watches an intense game of beer pong and tries his best to not think of angels draped in lewd black fabric.


	2. part2

Ranmaru's love-hate relationship with Syo and Cecil drives him up the walls most of the times. He loves them, because they work so  _ well _ together; though Syo has his own lines, and Cecil still has a lot of training to go through under Ranmaru, they've figured out how to work like a well oiled machine. They all have each other's backs, considering how shockingly nasty fashion can be, and they're each other's support in a pinch. When Cecil had to go back home because his mom had gotten sick, Ranmaru had fought tooth and nail for his internship to be secured. Whenever Ranmaru needed a place to stay when he was still paying off his family's debt, Syo always had space for him. Hell, Cecil and Ranmaru wouldn't let Syo drink any caffeine for  _ months _ after his heart problems got worse, and even when Syo insisted a little would be okay, they hadn't let their guard down.

Maybe Ranmaru wouldn't trust them with his thoughts and feelings, but he honestly trusted them in everything else.

The thing about them being this close, thought, meant shit like  _ this _ happens too often.

"Aine Kisaragi just asked me to create his and his fiancé's wedding suits," Syo yells as he bursts into Ranmaru's studio.

"You do weddings?" Ranmaru asks tonelessly, flipping through fabric samples. Cecil is suspiciously quiet where he's sat sewing.

"Nope!" Syo says. "But one does not simply say no to Aine Kisaragi!"

"Mhm."

"And he asked me if I knew anyone who could do the best man outfits."

"Mm?"

"And I told him that you'd do it, gladly."

"You  _ what _ !"

The thing is, Syo is right: you really don't say no to Aine Kisaragi. It's like the man looks directly into Ranmaru's cold, shriveled raisin heart, and says, "Oh, you'll be paid  _ very _ generously, of course. And, if you'd like, I could also throw in the offer of me, Reiji, or even Ai working with you in the future with no hassle."

Somehow, some way, Aine has figured out that Ranmaru desperately can't stop thinking of wrapping his cousin up in chiffon and lace and satin, painting bruises all over his throat and lips red, before tossing him down the runway. He's figured out that Ranmaru wants to destroy his cousin's pretty boy, angel faced reputation and is more than willing to give him that.

Of course, Ranmaru agrees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


	3. part 3

Ai comes in with Aine, shockingly; Ranmaru didn’t think he was  _ that _ intimidating, and he knows Ai has backbone, and plus, where was the other best man? But Aine is there, dressed frumpily, like he rolled out of bed for this, with only Ai right behind him, dressed in light jeans and a white long sleeve.

“Ai isn’t really my first man,” Aine says. “Kei and Hibiki were gonna duke it out if we only chose one of them, so we’ve avoided it all together. But I’d really like it if you made him an outfit for the wedding regardless."

“You’ll be paid of course,” Ai reminds, kicking Aine’s ankle subtly.

“Yeah, yeah, of course!”

Ranmaru contemplates saying no, but Ai is a glittering beacon in his studio, distracting even as Cecil sings loudly behind the door of their junk side room.

“Sure. No problem,” Ranmaru says instead. “When will I get to see the other two?”

“. . . Some other day,” Aine says. “We have lots of time til the wedding, Ai is just the easiest to fit for right now. Kei and Hibiki need a. . . strong hand sometimes, so I’ll come to their fitting.”

“You’re not staying?” Ranmaru says with faux confusion. He doesn’t actually care.

“Can’t! Sorry. Just came to introduce you two.”

“We know each other,” Ai says lightly. “You invite Syo to every party, and he always brings Kurosaki and Aijima with him.”

“Oh, real shit?” Aine says, peeking over his sunglasses at Ai; he looks a little hungover.

“Mhm. He just stays inside usually.”

“Damn. Your loss, Ran, we play  _ mad _ beer pong in the backyard.”

Ranmaru knows-- he’s seen Aine get bowled across long folding tables, seen Reiji use a tennis ball and racket to land a point, and also seen, on occasion, a whole pack of people pouring kegs into the loser’s mouth. While Ranmaru isn’t afraid of losing, he’s also seen worse happen so he’s not sure if he wants to deal with it.

Ai raises an eyebrow when Ranmaru looks at him, as if saying,  _ yeah, me neither. _

“I’ve seen,” is all Ranmaru says.

Aine leaves. Cecil emerges from the closet, nearly in tears.

“I forgot my dentist appointment,” he yells as he runs out.

Ai watches him leave curiously.

“His dad is very. . . aware of his health,” Ranmaru says, in lieu of explaining that Cecil is a noble child whose parents take his health scarily serious.

Ai snorts, and the sound should be ugly, but it’s light and makes his nose wrinkle up.

Ranmaru sees ripped white ribbons and rough red tulle and it’s nearly too much.


	4. part 4

It’s not that Ai wouldn’t wear skirts on a runway, Ranmaru thinks during their second session, it’s just that nobody’s let him. At least, that’s what it seems like to him. He can’t recall Ai wearing anything as avant-garde as the outfit he wore that night at Aine’s party; at that point, most of the room had been too drunk to fully notice the change in outfit, let alone the skirt.

Ai is eyeing Ranmaru’s studio curiously, but he’s dutifully still; they had already agreed on the suit design and the fabrics and colors, which had worked in conjunction with Aine and Reiji’s outfits, and now it was time for the measurements and any last minute changes. Ranmaru has been jotting down the measurements on his phone in Cecil’s absence, vaguely wondering if he got to his appointment on time; today, he had to speak his school’s dean due to some visa nonsense. Syo had gone with him as moral support. The kid could never catch a break, it seemed.

“Does Reiji have a kind-of-but-not-really best man too?” Ranmaru asks.

“His sister is going to fill in. She’s already got a dress and everything, so Reiji just incorporated the color into everything else,” Ai replies, and if he thinks Ranmaru’s informality is weird, he doesn’t show it.

“A real shame you’re not in a dress,” Ranmaru says, bending into a kneel to measure hip-to-leg. “You’ve got the legs for one.”

“Oh?”

“I was at one of Aine’s parties, you were in a skirt, sue me for noticing a model who works well with a medium.”

“I didn’t think I was what you looked for in a model.”

“I wouldn’t dare dream to be the one to ruin your pretty reputation,” Ranmaru says blandly as he stands back up. “All done, by the way.”

“My reputation precedes me,” Ai says as he steps down from the raised platform Ranmaru had told him to stand on; his socks are Star Trek themed, blue and black with a golden insignia on the ankle. They had been covered by his tall boots, and when Ranmaru had seen them, he’d been slightly charmed. “And it has created a version of me I’m not sure is true.”

Ranmaru turns to his work desk, opening his sketchbook to the page with the design on it. He can hear Ai rustling around, putting his heeled boots back on while Ranmaru transcribes the measurements where they belong.

“If I had it my way,” he says casually. “I’d put you in a black dress with a nice open front. Show off those legs. You’ve worked hard for them, haven’t you?”

Ai makes a little wounded noise, something that’s been dragged right out of him, in response. Maybe he hadn’t expected Ranmaru to notice.

“Oh,” Ai says, sounding interested, and Ranmaru grins.


End file.
